AMONG THE MORMONS IN THE DAYS OF BRIGHAM YOUNG BY WILFRED H. MUNRO TN 1871 the author of this paper was told by his •^ physician that he must throw up his position and go west for a "life in the open" or he could not live six months. He was then a Master in a military board- ing school, and one of his pupils happened to be a brother-in-law of Bishop Tuttle of Utah. Like all young men of that day "Mormonism" appealed to him as a curiosity. He chose Salt Lake City as a place from which to wander and has ever since rejoiced in the experiences resulting therefrom. The stories of the beginnings of a religion are ordi- narily vague and of doubtful value. Accounts written, as in the case of the Mohammedans, upon "palm leaves, skins, blade-bones and the hearts of men," do not always agree in their statements and can never be entirely satisfactory. It is not so with "Mormon- ism." Its founder, Joseph Smith, was born hardly a century and a quarter ago (1805); its organization is not yet a hundred years old (1830). An alert printing press has steadily kept us informed of all that is worth knowing in its history. The establishment of the Mormon state in what was supposed to be foreign territory, in 1847, does not antedate the birth of many members of this Society. (It was not until 1848 that Mexico, by the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo, ceded to the United States the indefinite and unsurveyed regions of the provinces of New Mexico and Upper California.) Very many living men have known the great leader of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. For Joe Smith, the Founder of the Mormon Church, we may have nothing but contempt; for Brigham Young, its organizer and administrator, we must cherish a most profound respect, even though we may not go so far as to say with Secretary Seward, that "America has never produced a greater statesman than Brigham Young." Most of the transcontinental travelers who carried pens before 1869, when the Pacific Railway was com- pleted, gave more or less valuable accounts of what they saw of the workings of the Mormon Hierarchy. The most trustworthy of these writers was the pro- fessional traveler. Sir Richard F. Burton. Many estimable women have written volumes that are value- less dealing with what they thought was the unhappy condition of the Mormon women. As a matter of fact very few women that were not Mormons ever got an inside view of the workings of the Mormon system. As that wise friend of our early years, the late C. J. Caesar of Rome said, "Men are wont to believe what they wish to believe." The most valuable books dealing with Mormonism are Linn's "Story of the Mormons," and Werner's "Brigham Young." Bancroft's "History of Utah" is of course filled with information. Tul- lidge, ''The History of Salt Lake City," gives the ofläcial Mormon aeeount. Most valuable of all sources are the nineteen volumes of the "Journal of Discourses of Brigham Young and the other Mormon leaders." Of the non-historical writers, Mark Twain's impressions seem to Linn to be the most important. Going westward from Niagara I stopped first at Ann Arbor to visit some fraternity brothers at the University of Michigan. They took me in to the Chapel services, that I might size up the "coeds." There were but a handful, certainly not an armful of these maidens. The coeducation idea was only just beginning to spread over the land. Next I stopped at Chicago. It was before the fire, and the city was still rising on stilts from the prairie. Going through Iowa I was, being a New Englander, impressed with the complete absence of stones. (So I was forty years afterwards when journeying over the plains of Argentina. In both cases the silt of a great river had covered the land.) At Omaha I made my first halt. There was no bridge over the Missouri River. A ferry boat carefully picked its way among the changing channels. The bars in the river were innumerable. The boat escaped them all, but its passengers seemed never able to cross from one side of the craft to the other without becom- ing stranded at its bar. The rails still running down to the water's edge reminded one of the ice which had bridged the river during most of the winter. Gozzen's Hotel, built in forty days, on a wager, by George Francis Train, was the leading hostelry in Omaha. There I remained for several days, awaiting trans- portation, and thereby gaining the friendship of the "Wit of the United States Senate," James W. Nye of Nevada. Mr. Nye appeared to regard it as his duty to make things pleasant for a young man who was "down on his luck." "Rhody" was the name he gave me, after the manner of the mining camps, and Rhody will never forget his indebtedness to that genial, warm-hearted man. Fortune further favored by as- signing me to the Pullman section occupied by Glar- ence King, famous explorer and writer, than whom no man could wish for a more charming companion or one with a larger knowledge of that western country. The journey became a perpetual joy. There was no "Diner" on the train, but the jprairies furnished abundant game for the railway eating rooms at which we stopped for our meals, and youth furnished an abundant appetite. My first view of the Great Salt Lake was from the branch road running from Ogden to Salt Lake Gity. There was a heavy sea on, and some men covered with spray landed from a sailboat. They stood drying on the platform until the train started and then came on board, crusted with salt. When one bathes today in Salt Lake if he stands for a moment to dry in the hot sun he may brush a shower of fine salt from his body. He must be exceedingly careful not to get any of that salt water in his eyes. Talk of "Tear Gas"! He who reaches the city by rail loses the thrill one gets who enters Salt Lake Valley by the old Mormon Trail. I sat one day upon my horse at the mouth of Emigra- tion Canyon. There was a goodly prospect. Below were green fields and well-kept cottages. The wide streets were lined with trees whose roots were nour- ished by the waters everywhere running through the gutters. Beyond were lofty mountains with snow still lingering on their summits and on their sides, where the sun's rays could not reach them. Between the city and the mountains the great lake glittered in the sun. An old Mormon rode up beside me. "Here," he said, "where we are sitting, Brigham stretched out his hands and said: 'This is the place the Lord has appointed for us.' It was the worst looking valley we had seen since we left Missouri. There was no vegetation but sage brush; there were no living things but jack-rabbits and rattlesnakes, lizards and horned toads." Brigham saw the possibilities contained in the waters flowing down through the canyons, and was wise enough also to pre-empt for his own control City Creek Canyon, through which the most abun- dant water supply came. The beetles and the grass- hoppers were to appear later as well as the seagulls that were to save the settlers from the last two pests. The wife of Bishop Tuttle told me that the beetles ate the clothes banging on the lines. The grasshoppers ate not only the leaves on her peach trees, but the meat from the half-ripened peaches, leaving the naked stones attached to the branches. Coming back toward dusk one day I rode through a country barren of verdure, which had at sunrise (before the insect swarms ap- peared) been one wide plain of standing grain. The Townsend House was the leading hotel in 1871, and the centre of resort for the Gentile part of the population. (In Utah all who are not Mormons are Gentiles, even the Jews.) At first I essayed a boarding house. It was filled with young men; no man was more than thirty-five, and all were from the West or South. I was the only man whose home was east of the Mississippi; when one spoke of going east he meant Omaha, Kansas City, St. Louis or St. Joe., rarely even Chicago. Later I found lodgings with a widow. She was a fragment only, being one of seven wives. She was English and better educated than most of her class. She believed in polygamy, and so did every Mormon woman with whom I talked. I was prepared by reading of anti-Mormon books for bitterness of feeling on that subject, but I found none. The hor- rible tales were written to sell; they found ready credence because, to quote Caesar once more, "Men are wont to believe what they wish to believe." Tour- ists swarmed through that summer. Especially fre- quent were Congressmen, Senators and such. I remember the name of Hannibal Hamlin on the hotel register. Somewhat remarkable were the congressional amusements. Going by one day. Senator Nye sum- moned me to a place beside him. There had been a "Round-up." A quantity of beetles had been cor- raled for the spectacle, likewise a number of toads. These were herded into separate parts of the arena, while the participants in the game gathered around it.